


Healing Hands

by sbdrag



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: The Calling
Genre: All Wardens - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Darktown Clinic, Dorian Has Issues, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marian Hawke wants to live in a musical, Massage Parlor AU, Multi, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: Dorian Pavus is running from his past, and his best friend Felix is along for the ride. Buying a small house in Kirkwall's Hightown district, the pair soon meet some of the city's most colorful citizens - the Hawke family and their friends. While Felix begins managing the low-cost clinic in Darktown his father helped him buy, Dorian starts his job as a masseur at the Healing Hands massage parlor.





	1. A Chantry Mouse and an Inconsiderate Bear Move into Hightown

**Author's Note:**

> Started this after a conversation on tumblr years ago, don't know if I'll finish it but I like what I made so far so felt I'd share. Would like to continue, so I added intended couples, but... ah, I'm not so good at finishing fanfiction works...

Dorian sighed, putting his hands on his hips. The room was small, and empty. It had a large, low window with a pane wide enough for sitting. It was something, he supposed. At his feet was a duffel bag; all he’d managed to grab in his flight from Tevinter. 

 

“What you think?”

 

Dorian turned to see Felix at the doorway. 

 

“I think it’s atrociously small. But I suppose it could be worse.”

 

Felix laughed, walking past his friend to examine the room himself, “At least it’s in Hightown. And at a bargain. Something about the neighbors, probably.”

“Hopefully they aren’t Orlesians. That would certainly explain the price.”

 

“Worse. Fereldans.”

 

“Maker’s breath, no wonder it smells like wet dog.”

 

Felix laughed, running his hand down a wall next to the window, “A bookcase would look good here, don’t you think?”

 

“Decorating my room for me now?” Dorian walked up to Felix, cupping his chin in his hand. He rubbed his thumb over his fluff of a beard, considering, “I can’t say I disagree, though…”

 

“Then let’s go get one.”

 

“Felix…”

 

Felix put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder with a smile, “You can pay me back when you get a job.”

 

Dorian put a hand over his friend’s, throat suddenly tight. He didn’t deserve a friend like Felix, and he knew it, “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me,” Felix said, taking a step back to lightly sock Dorian on the arm, “You’re paying me back. With interest!”

 

“Extortionist. At this rate, I’ll be poor as a Chantry mouse.”

 

“You’re already poor as a Chantry mouse.”

 

“True.”

 

“Come on then, mouse. Let’s go get you a bookshelf. And a sleeping bag. Unless you think the floor is a better option.”

 

“I may be a mouse, but I am a mouse with impeccable taste. Tastes that do not include sleeping on the floor.”

 

“Sleeping bag it is. And you can help me pick out a bed.”

 

“You are a cruel man.”

 

“Unless you want to pay me back for that too…”

 

“What has this city done to my sweet friend? Who are you, you scoundrel?”

 

Felix laughed, holding open the door to the townhouse. 

 

The two men stepped into Hightown and headed toward the shopping district. Felix locked the door behind him as Dorian looked around the street. 

 

Their humble abode was built between two larger estates; the one on the left had some kind of bird like crest above the door and… was that  _ underwear _ hanging out of one of the windows? Dorian shook his head.  _ Fereldans _ .

 

The house on the right looked practically abandoned, the small lawn overgrown and all the windows and blinds shut. Dorian wouldn’t have thought that anyone lived there.

 

That was, until the door to the Fereldan estate burst open with a roar of  _ “MARIAN!” _

 

Marian Hawke laughed as she ran out of the house and vaulted over the fence. A young, angry man chased after, and attempted to follow suit. Instead of a graceful leap, however, his foot caught and he ended up falling on his face. 

 

“You’ll have to do better than that to caught me, Carver!” the woman sang, darting around Dorian to rush up the walkway to the other house. 

 

Carver Hawke grumbled obscenities under his breath as he got to his feet. he put a hand up to his bloodied nose, and glared in the direction his sister had went. 

 

Felix came over to stand next to Dorian, joining him in watching the spectacle.

 

“Fenris! Fenris, let me in!” Marian called, pounding on the door. 

 

It opened a moment later to an irate elf in black skinny jeans and nothing else, “What do you want, Hawke?”

 

“Protect me?” Marian said, scooting around to hide behind the elf as Carver came storming over.

 

Fenris half sighed, half groaned, and shut the door in the younger Hawke’s face. His  _ you owe me _ could be heard through the door.

 

“Carver, calm down,” Bethany Hawke, emerging from the house as well, walked over to the fence.

 

“She started it!” Carver yelled back, pointing accusingly at Fenris’s door. 

 

“And yet you keep rising to the bait,” a fourth Hawke said, poking his head out of the door. Garrett Hawke had just gotten out of the shower to his siblings in the middle of yet another argument, and only had a towel wrapped around his waist.

 

Dorian approved.

 

“You always take her side!”

 

“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” Garrett replied. He was the first to notice the two men on the sidewalk in front of the town house, “Oh, are you two the new neighbors?”

 

“That’s us,” Dorian said, “Dorian Pavus, and this is my friend Felix Alexius. Just moved in today.”

 

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Bethany said, smiling, “Sorry about Carver. He’s a bit of an ass.”

 

“I heard that,” Carver said, giving up on getting into Fenris’s house without even knocking. He walked over to the pair, and held out a hand. Realizing it was the hand covered in blood, he took it back and offered the other, “Carver Hawke.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Felix said, smiling warmly, “If you don’t mind, I could heal that.”

 

“Oh, you’re a mage?” Carver asked, nodding his assent. 

 

Dorian gave the man a once over. Nice body, but not his type, “We both are, actually.”

 

“Oh, lovely! Did you hear that, Garrett?” Bethany asked, glancing at her brother before looking at the pair again, “Garrett and I are mages, too. Do you two have any specialties?”

 

“I’m a necromancer by trade, but I’m also a fair hand at fire magic,” Dorian answered. 

 

“I’m a spirit healer, actually,” Felix said, pulling his hand away from Carver’s face.

 

Carver gingerly felt his nose, then nodded, “Thanks. If I had waited for Anders, I would have gotten a lecture.”

 

“And you would have deserved it, too,” Garrett said, frowning, “You need to learn to control your temper, before someone gets hurt.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind if it was Marian…” Carver grumbled, crossing his arms.

 

“I heard that,” Garrett said, “And since you live in the house I own-”

 

“Only while I’m still in school!” Carver said, tossing up his arms.

 

“-without paying rent, like Marian, or helping with the chores, like Bethy-”

 

“None of you will let me!”

 

“To be fair, you are rather bad at them,” Bethany said.

 

Felix chuckled, and put a hand to his mouth to try and hide it. Dorian smiled outright.

 

“-the least you can do is try to be nicer to your siblings,” Garrett concluded. 

 

“Yeah, sure,  _ dad _ ,” Carver said, rolling his eyes. he stormed back inside the house, and Garrett went after him. 

 

“Is it always this lively, or this just how you welcome new neighbors?” Dorian asked, smiling charmingly at Bethany.

 

Bethany smiled and shrugged, “It just gets like this sometimes. Sorry about that.”

 

“It’s alright. It must be nice to have so many siblings,” Felix said. 

 

Bethany laughed, “You must not have had any, to say that. So, are you two together then?”

 

“What? Me and Felix? No, we’re just friends,” Dorian said. 

 

“Besides, he isn’t my type,” Felix said. 

 

Dorian put a hand to his chest in mock hurt, “Felix, how could you say such a thing? I’m wounded.”

 

“I’m just not attracted to perfection,” Felix said mournfully, “It’s my curse to go after the most flawed people I can find.”

 

Dorian sniffed, “Well, at least you admit I’m perfect.”

 

Bethany laughed again, “Well, if that’s the case, you should ask out my brother. You’d love him in no time.”

 

Felix laughed, “I might at that. I never caught your name…?”

 

“Bethany,” the woman said, “Carver’s my twin, and Marian and Garrett are the older twins.”

 

“Two sets of twins? Your parents must have had their hands full,” Dorian said. 

 

“Well, Garrett looked after us a lot,” Bethany said. She winced at the sound of something breaking inside the house, “Excuse me, I need to see if that was the dog or Carver. Garrett can really only stop one at a time.”

 

“Good luck with that,” Dorian said.

 

“See you around,” Felix said, waving. 

 

Bethany waved back, jogging back into the house. 

 

“Well, they’re certainly a lively bunch,” Dorian mused. 

  
Felix smiled, and started walking. Dorian joined him. 

 

“I get the feeling it will never be dull around here.”

 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

 

“You’ll probably get to see that Garrett fellow without his shirt again.”

 

“Definitely an advantage.”

 

“And I’ll get to see his brother.”

 

“Felix!” Dorian said, scandalized but grinning, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

 

His friend shrugged, “He’s cute, don’t you think?”

 

“A little too rough around the edges, for my tastes. That one is all yours.”

 

“Oh, good, less competition.”

 

Dorian laughed, “Just don’t get too carried away. If you start dating, you’ll no doubt be pulled into the family hijinks.”

 

“I think it sounds like an adventure.”

 

“Like buying a failing clinic in Darktown is an adventure?”

 

Felix smiled, “It won’t be failing when I’m done with it. You’ll see.”

 

“Well, in the meantime, I suppose I’ll find my own job. Soon I’ll be the one holding us together.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

 

They walked for a time in companionable silence. On their way, Dorian paused as a sign caught his eye. 

 

It was a small building nestled between two larger shops. Dorian paused, looking it over. Large windows showing a well lit interior. There were paintings on the walls, and a blonde elf sat at a receptionist desk.

 

“Healing Hands Massage Parlor,” Felix read, tracking his friend’s gaze. He then looked at the window, “Oh! And look, they’re hiring!”

 

“Seems a bit convenient, don’t you think?” Dorian asked, but let Felix drag him across the street. 

 

“Well, the Maker has to give us some good luck sometime, don’t you think?” 

 

“Hullo, welcome to Healing Hands, fill out a form and we’ll be with you in a minute,” the elf said. She seemed bored, playing with an arrowhead necklace on a leather thong. 

 

“Actually, my friend here was looking to apply for a job,” Felix said, cutting off whatever Dorian had been about to say. 

 

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes, but didn’t object.

 

“No shit?” the elf asked, looking up. Gray eyed and freckled, she grinned, “Good. Boss’s been lookin’ to fill the spot for ages since his shite brother ran off to make bank in Orzammar. Hold on, let me get him.”

 

The elf spun her chair around and skipped into the back of the shop.

 

“Felix…” 

 

“Relax, Dorian. Maybe they just haven’t had anyone qualified enough apply.”

 

“Gentlemen!”

 

The two men turned as a dwarf emerged from behind the counter. He had a broad grin and an open shirt revealing an impressive amount of chest hair. The elf woman returned to her seat with a grin.

 

“Welcome to Healing Hands, finest Massage Parlor in Kirkwall! I’m Varric Tethras, proprietor, and my receptionist Sera tells me that one of you is looking for a job?”

 

Felix grinned at Dorian. His friend sighed and stepped forward, holding out a hand.

 

“Dorian Pavus, at your service.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Pavus. Let’s step back into my office and talk about your credentials.”

 

Dorian shot Felix a weak glare over his shoulder as he followed the amiable dwarf. Felix just smiled and waved.

 

“Does he always have his tits in a twist?” Sera asked. 

 

Felix laughed, leaning on the counter, “You have no idea.”

 

“Well, that’s what water buckets over doorways are for, yeah?”

 

Felix laughed, then turned as the door burst open.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” the man said, panting slightly, “Work ran late and-”

 

“Don’t sweat it, Curly,” Sera said, leaning back and putting her feet up, “Cassandra’s waiting for you in the usual room. Try not to get lost.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The blonde man offered Felix a weak smile as he rushed to the door leading to the back, patting down his curly hair in a weak attempt to tame it. Felix raised a brow.

 

“A regular?”

 

“Like clockwork. Always late, too. S’why I schedule him a half hour late. That way he’s always early and Cass doesn’t get on my ass about it.”

 

“That’s one way, I suppose.”

 

“So, you and mr prissy pants, you just get to Kirkwall then?”

 

“Is it that obvious?”

 

“You’re not Marchers, that much is for certain, and you’re not Fereldan, I could tell. So, where are you from?”

 

“Tevinter. And you?”

 

“Everywhere. But Fereldan mostly, I guess.”

 

“What brought you to Kirkwall?”

 

“Just thought I’d visit for a lark, then the girl I was with dumped me on my ass. Didn’t have any money or friends, and then this big shit dwarf comes swaggering into the pub like he owns the place - he does, actually, but that’s not the important bit - and we get to talking and he offers me a job as a receptionist. Boom, here I am.” 

 

“Sounds like your boss is a good guy.”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, he can be a bit of a tit, but in the good kind of way, yeah? Anyway, what do you do then?”

 

“I’m a healer. I bought the Darktown Clinic.”

 

“Bought it? Not like, you’re just working there? Actually bought it?”

 

“Well, to be honest, my father bought it for me, but I plan to make a living on my own.”

 

“Good luck with that, I guess. And your friend, what’s his story?”

 

“He’s doing me a favor. I wanted to live out here on my own, and he came along to keep me company.”

 

“Big favor for a friend.”

 

“Well, I think we both wanted a change of pace.”

 

“Too true,” Dorian said, reemerging from the back. “You think I would travel halfway across Thedas for a man less pretty than I am?”

 

“He only says that because he’s jealous he can’t pull off the bald look,” Felix said with a wink and a smile, “So, how’d it go?”

 

“My dear Felix, you know I am the epitome of perfection and charm. Who wouldn’t  _ beg _ to hire me?”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Sera said, face screwing up in a frown. 

 

Felix laughed, “Well, congratulations then. When do you start?”

 

“Monday. Now, I think we’ve spent enough time on this exercise. Shall we go on?”

 

“Of course. I can’t start extorting you until I buy you that book shelf.”

 

“Charlatan. You’re only after me for my money, aren’t you?”

 

Felix grinned, waving at Sera as they left the shop, “It’s not like I need you for anything else.”

 

Dorian gasped in mock hurt as the pair continued further into the shopping district, finally reaching their destination this time.

 

“What’s got you all sour, Buttercup?” 

 

Sera let her feet drop, then stood to look down at Varric over the desk. She didn’t need to do it to see him, but thought it was funny, “Are you really hiring that prick?”

 

“Don’t take Sparkler too seriously,” Varric said, waving a hand, “He’ll be a good match for this place.”

 

“Are you saying that because you really think so, or is it because you already came up with a nickname for him?”

 

Varric laughed, “Who knows? Maybe I just did it because I knew it would piss you off.”

 

“You’re such a shit,” Sera said, but grinned.

 

“It’s part of my charm. Curly get in alright?”

 

“Late as usual, but yeah, he’s with Cass.”

 

“Good. Blondie go home yet?”

 

“Nah, he’s got that late appointment with mr prickly puss.”

 

“Ah, right, Broody. What about Daisy?”

 

“She left. Some emergency with Ser Pounce.”

 

Varric shook his head, “If Blondie ever gets married, remind me to tell his wife never to let him name their kids.”

 

“That would require him to actually go on a date,” Sera said, rolling her eyes. 

 

Varric laughed, “True. Rivaini and Rooster?”

 

“On their last clients.”

 

“Alright. Feel free to leave once Broody shows up. I have some books to go over, then I’ll be heading out too.”

 

“Right-o, boss man,” Sera said, saluting. 

 

Varric nodded with a chuckle, and headed back into his office.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, curled up on the mattress Felix had insisted on buying for him -  _ look, it’s a sale, it’s cheaper for me to buy two - _ and wrapped in the blanket his friend had also talked him into taking -  _ see, I brought a blanket with me, so I’m going to get this nicer one, and you can have the old one  _ \- and staring at his small, empty bookshelf, Dorian sighed softly to himself. 

 

He missed Tevinter. He missed his old room, full of all his things. He missed his books, his four poster bed, his balcony. 

 

Dorian started at a soft knock, followed by Felix opening the door. Seeing Dorian start to sit up, Felix huffed and waltzed into the room, flopping onto the mattress unceremoniously.

 

“This new blanket isn’t as warm as I thought it would be, move over,” he said, practically shoving Dorian aside.

 

“See, this is why you should have kept the one you brought,” Dorian said, but shuffled to make room. They ended up laying back to back, and Dorian could feel the heat of his friend against his back.

 

“Well, I’m comfortable now, so I’m not leaving,” Felix said, with a sniff.

 

Dorian couldn’t help but smile, “Fine, fine. But just for tonight.”

 

“Don’t worry. Since you’re a mouse, you don’t take up much room.”

 

Dorian laughed, “And you have the manners of a bear.”

 

Felix chuckled, “Good night, mouse.”

 

Dorian smiled, closing his eyes. “Good night, bear.”


	2. The Darktown Clinic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, another chapter.

Anders groaned as he woke up, feeling himself pulled from the Fade like stepping through a giant spider’s web. He pushed through the lingering vestiges of sleep, physically sitting up in an effort to be free. 

 

The mage stared at the wall, blinking as his vision cleared. As usual, he’d had a night of restless sleep and nightmares. Well, less of a night and more of a few hours. He sighed to himself. At times like this, he’d do what he always did - get up, make himself some tea… and go to an early volunteer shift at the Darktown Clinic until he was tired enough to nap before his afternoon shift at Healing Hands. 

 

_ Good, we’ve wasted enough time already _ , Justice piped up. 

 

Anders sighed, dragging himself out of bed. Ser Pounce-a-Lot  _ mrrow _ ed in protest as the movement jostled him, but the cat quickly settled again. The mage scratched him behind the ears, “I wish I could sleep as soundly as you.”

 

_ This is not conducive to bringing justice, _ the spirit continued. 

 

“And I should have never done that Avvar foreign exchange program,” he added, moving through his studio apartment to the kitchen. He filled a measuring cup with water and stuck it in the microwave, “Learn magic from the spirits themselves, they said - it’ll be  _ fun _ , they said…”

 

_ No one told you this would be fun _ , Justice argued,  _ And it is not my fault that I am unable to return to the Fade - your need of me- _

 

“Yes, yes, I know - ‘your need of me keeps me here’ - but I’ll have you know I was doing just fine before you got here, mister fuss pot,” the mage replied, pulling out a cat shaped mug and opening a packet of Warden Grey tea while the water heated, “And I have never asked you to overstay your welcome in my body, so forgive me if it still sounds like bullshit to me.”

 

Justice was silent, as the spirit always was Anders brought up their strange arrangement. The mage wanted to believe it was because he had a point and the spirit knew it - but he knew that wasn’t it. He’d never been comfortable being alone since - well, no need to dwell on the past. 

 

As the microwave beeped, he went about making his tea. He washed his face and pulled on some clothes while it steeped, taking the mug to his hand-me-down table with the chewed on legs (from the Hawkes, bless them) to check his email on the laptop Aveline had given him last Christmas (not that she was a woman of means herself, but secondhand gifts were fine with the mage). A few volunteer opportunities, some mage and elf rights petitions, and new bookings from the Healing Hands calendar. 

 

Anders rolled his eyes - Fenris had him booked at the last possible session once a week for the next two months. Logically, he knew why the elf did it - as a spirit healer (however unwilling) Anders was one of the few masseurs that could actually help with the pains caused by his lyrium tattoos. The mage had never asked where Fenris had gotten them, but he knew enough signs to know it hadn’t been pleasant - or by choice. What he didn’t understand was why the elf continued to see  _ him _ in particular - or why he didn’t just go to a doctor or professional healer. Fenris claimed to loathe him, and had only gone to parlor on Marian’s recommendation - or so the woman claimed whenever convincing Anders to keep the irritating elf as a client.

 

(It always worked - he owed the Hawkes and their family too much to say no. It didn’t hurt that Fenris was good looking, either.) 

 

The mage sighed and shook his head, finishing his tea while he ruminated. The new owner of the clinic was supposed to be there tonight as well - a Tevinter mage, or so he’d heard. He’d always been curious of their most northern neighbors, but had been stalled in Kirkwall after running from Fereldan and never made it there. 

 

_ I wonder how the others are doing… _ he thought. He’d been in a private school for mages back then, and one of the only things about it he missed were his friends - Dagna Smith, Lathbora Surana and Karen Amell. He supposed if he really wanted, he could ask one of the Hawkes to contact their cousin - not that he’d ever brought up knowing their cousin in the first place.

 

_ You are dawdling _ , Justice said, breaking his reverie. 

 

“Oh be quiet,” Anders said, secretly grateful that the spirit had stopped his mind from going to darker places. Despite his complaining, he stood up and finished getting ready to go out.

 

* * *

 

Leliana waved at Anders from the front desk as the mage entered the clinic. The mage waved back - Leliana was another volunteer, but had family support to let her do so full time. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep again?” she asked. There was something Anders liked about her Orlesian accent - something… soothing. Then again, she came from a family of musicians and could easily start her own singing career if she desired - the woman had been cultivating her voice since she was a child. 

 

“I was up thinking of you,” Anders replied, “When are you going to drop Mahariel and run away with me into the sunset?”

 

“When you learn to carry a tune,” Leliana laughed. 

 

_ It is unjust to tempt a married woman! _ His spirit companion protested.

 

“She’s not tempted,” Anders said, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Tell Justice that if I ever do, it will be with Theron’s consent - and likely participation,” the human woman added, a wicked gleam in her eye.

 

Anders laughed and reached over to give her hand a kiss, “This is why you’re one of my favorite people, Leliana.”

 

“Thank you - but you really should stop talking to Justice out loud, it’s a bad habit,” she replied. 

 

The mage waved as he walked away, into the clinic proper, “You’re right, of course.”

 

There wasn’t much to the Darktown Clinic - the admin office was in the back, the waiting area in the front, and the main ward. It was little more than rows of beds separated by plastic curtains, but it was the most the denizens of Darktown could hope for. Other members of the small staff and volunteers were already helping patients. Anders walked through and waved to them as he went to see the main healer, who was standing in front of the office. 

 

Wynne looked up from a clipboard with a frown, “Do you ever sleep?”

 

“Not if I can help it,” Anders said with a wink for the older mage, “At least, not alone.”

 

The head healer rolled her eyes, “You’re never alone, Anders.”

 

“You knew what I meant - new boss here yet?” the younger mage asked. 

 

“Unfortunately,” one of the orderlies - a dwarven woman named Shayle Cadash - drawled, “I think he looks rather pale - he may need our services more than our patients.”

 

“Shayle, please, have some manners,” Wynne reprimanded, “If it weren’t for Mr. Alexius-”

 

“I prefer Felix, actually,” the man himself said, emerging from the back office. 

 

“Forgive me… Felix,” the head healer corrected, “Allow me to introduce Anders - one of our regular volunteers.”

 

“Too regular, if you ask me,” Shayle added. 

 

Felix held out a hand, “Nice to meet you, Anders…?”

 

“Just Anders,” the other man replied, “You’re… younger than I thought you’d be. Cuter, too.”

 

“ _ Anders _ ,” Wynne said, sighing and putting her hands on her hips. 

 

Shayle rolled her eyes, equally unsurprised that the tall mage was already flirting, but much less moved to disappointment.

 

Felix just laughed, “I get that a lot - the younger part, at least. My father gave me the money to buy the clinic, but there’d be no point without volunteers like you - so let me say thank you now, in case I forget to later.”

 

Anders felt his face heat at the sudden praise - he could always flirt, but genuine kindness was harder to swallow, “No need - I just figure if I can’t sleep I might as well do something productive with my time.” 

 

_ Helping others is indeed a just cause _ , Justice added. 

 

Felix blinked, “Oh, are you carrying a spirit?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Anders said, wishing the flashing eyes didn’t give him away, “A spirit of Justice I picked up in high school.”

 

“That long?” the Tevinter mage asked, brows arching in surprise.

 

“How old do you think I am?” the other mage asked, crossing his arms in mock indignation. 

 

“Anders, enough with your teasing - Sebastian could use your help with one of the Hawkes,” Wynne said. 

 

Anders groaned, “Which Hawke?”

 

Wynne rolled her eyes in return, “The one that distracts him.”

 

“Bethany,” the mage replied, and waved as he walked away, “Nice to meet you, Felix - I’m sure we’ll have time to talk more later.”

 

Felix waved as well, then turned to Wynne, “I really don’t mind, you know - he reminds me of a friend, actually.”

 

“That’s no reason to encourage his bad habits,” the head healer snapped back, then sighed, “I’m sorry, Mr. Alexius, I didn’t mean-”

 

“It’s really alright, Wynne - I’d rather you spoke your mind,” the new clinic owner replied, “And Felix, please.”

 

“I am going to find someone that needs manhandling,” Shayle said, excusing herself, “With any luck, it will be the chatty mage.”

 

“Names, Shayle - we talked about this,” Wynne said. 

 

The dwarf woman waved a hand dismissively.

 

“It seems you have your hands full,” Felix said, smiling in amusement, “Let’s go into the office and talk about how to go forward.”

 

Meanwhile, Anders approached the bed where a blushing Sebastian Vael was attempting to treat a burn on Bethany Hawke’s arm. 

 

The female mage spotted him first, “Oh, Anders! Lovely to see you!”

 

“You too, Bethy,” the mage replied, “Let me have a look?”

 

Sebastian frowned, but stepped aside. One of the other full time volunteers - on behalf of the Chantry, though his family were regular donors - that wasn’t much of a fan of Anders. On top of being rather traditionally minded about mages and spirits, Sebastian often forgot how privileged a life he’d led - which could lead to him downplaying the struggles elves and mages still faced in modern society. Anders’s (admittedly perhaps a touch too aggressive at times) activism could rub him the wrong way entirely. Also, he was a prick. A  _ sanctimonious _ prick the worst kind, really. 

 

“Thanks - Dog tried to chase a squirrel while I was making dinner and well…” Bethany said, sighing in relief as the healing started. 

 

“That animal is a menace,” Sebastian said, crossing his arms. 

 

“And a beloved member of the Hawke household,” Anders shot back, annoyed - the other man had said similar things about Ser Pounce-a-Lot in the past.

 

“Yes, a  _ much _ loved family member,” Bethany added, glaring. 

 

The Starkhaven man coughed and blushed, “I didn’t mean to imply-”

 

“Well you did,” Anders said, stepping back, “All finished, right as rain.”

 

“Thank you, Anders,” Bethany said, getting up, “Do you need any help down here?”

 

“If you ask Wynne I’m sure she’ll have something,” the other mage replied.

 

“There’s no need for you to-” Sebastian started. 

 

Bethany turned up her nose, “Thank you again, Anders - I’ll do that.”

 

The Chantry brother trailed after her, “I only meant that you’ve just been healed and-”

 

“I know what I can and cannot handle, Sebastian,” Bethany replied, then relented, “But I appreciate the concern.”

 

The man continued after her as she went to the administrative office, “And… I’m sorry about what I said about Dog. I just… don’t like seeing you hurt.”

 

The mage woman sighed as she knocked on the door, “Well that’s no excuse to take it out on Dog - he doesn’t know any better.”

 

“I… I know,” Sebastian said, struggling to come up with something else to say, “I… I just…”

 

Wynne opened the door, stopping the stammering, “Oh, Bethany, were you looking to volunteer? You were just healed.”

 

Bethany laughed, “I know, but I’m alright now, so - oh, hello again.”

 

Felix peeked out from behind the head healer, and smiled, “Hello again indeed.”

 

“Did you buy the clinic, then?” the young Hawke asked.

 

“I did - but… I’m sorry to ask, but if you live in Hightown, then why-” the Tevinter mage asked. 

 

“Come to a clinic in Darktown?” Bethany anticipated, “When we first got to Kirkwall, we didn’t have much - our mother thought she’d been cut out of the family will and our uncle had gambled everything away. It took a lot of work to get the money we needed to buy back the family estate - well, for Garrett to buy it back, anyways. Long story short, this place took care of us then, so we try to give back.”

 

“Usually by overpaying,” Wynne said, with a stern smile just on the side approval, “But, forgive me - you two have met?”

 

“We’re neighbors,” Felix said, “We ran into each other yesterday morning.”

 

Bethany rolled her eyes, “Marian and Carver got in a fight, so she ran to Fenris’s place.”

 

“Honestly, you’d think the rest of your family were still children,” Wynne shook her head. 

 

“They are,” Sebastian said emphatically, then considered, “Well… except for Garrett.”

 

“Yes, Garrett is a nice, respectable young man,” the head healer agreed, “Carver should learn from him - I fear it’s too late for Marian.”

 

“Are the Hawkes well known?” Felix asked, laughing. 

 

“Infamous, more like,” Sebastian said, then held out a hand, “Brother Sebastian Vael, at your service.”

 

“Felix Alexius,” the mage replied, shaking, “The Vaels are a noble family, aren’t they?”

 

“Of Starkhaven,” the other man replied, “I… was called to a different path in life.”

 

The mage nodded, then looked back to Bethany, “What makes your family so… infamous? If you don’t mind my asking.”

 

Bethany sighed and shook her head, “It’s fine - my sister Marian runs in… questionable crowds. Garrett’s a council member, so it’s all a bit of a scandal - not to mention our rise to wealth…”

 

“And your friendship with Tethras,” Sebastian added. 

 

“Varric Tethras? That owns the massage parlor - and a tavern, I think?” Felix asked. 

 

“Among other things,” Wynne said, scoffing, “Though they’re probably fronts to launder money.”

 

“Wynne!” Bethany said. 

 

The head healer sighed, “I’m sorry - I  _ know _ he’s a good man, but I also know that not all of his money comes from legal businesses - and you do, too.”

 

The younger woman sighed, but couldn’t argue the point. 

 

“Well, I’m glad Dorian doesn’t have your scruples, Wynne,” Felix said, chuckling.

 

“Who?” the older mage asked. 

 

“My friend that came with me from Tevinter - he managed to get a job at Healing Hands,” the man replied. 

 

“A necromancer that’s a masseur?” Bethany laughed, then covered her mouth in a vain attempt to stop herself. 

 

“A what?” Sebastian asked, scandalized.

 

Felix laughed, “It’s ok, Dorian’s always been… unorthodox. It’s a point of pride, actually. He originally learned for a boyfriend - then he found he just enjoyed the job, so kept it up.”

 

“Well he couldn’t ask for a better boss,” Bethany said, “Really - for all his… flaws, Varric is a  _ really _ good man - I don’t think we could have gotten as far as we did without his help.”

 

“Just don’t let him write about you,” Sebastian sighed, “He’ll blow all of your flaws out of proportion - unless you’re Marian or Garrett.”

 

“He’s not that bad…” Bethany said. 

 

“Tell that to Aveline,” Wynne said, shaking her head, “This chat has been lovely, but there are patients to be seen and Bethany, of you could come help with some potion making…”

 

“Of course, Wynne - nice seeing you again,” the younger woman said, waving to Felix as she followed after the head healer. 

 

The other mage waved back. 

 

“I should also get back to work,” Sebastian said, “I hope to speak more in the future - though if you live next to the Hawkes, I have little doubt we’ll meet often.”

 

“Good to know,” Felix said, inclining his head before retreating back into the office. 

 

He sat behind a shabby desk with an old computer, going through the clinic’s financial records. There was a donor’s list, supplies, employee salaries, and patient payments to go through - complicated by the clinic being free. Those who could pay - such as the Hawkes, now that he was looking - did, and usually more than necessary, but it didn’t balance the patients who couldn’t pay. Not by a long shot. 

 

Felix coughed, and had to take a moment for a fit to subside. In the midst of it, he pulled a bottle from his messenger bag and shook two red pills into his palm. He took them quickly, and the fit soon calmed. He sighed, and pulled out a little black book - he marked the date and time at the end of a long string of the same. 

 

He put both back into his bag, returning to the computer and his work. 


	3. Odd Masseurs Bring Odd Clients

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic is a mood and I'm in it. Spoilers for Dragon Age: The Calling.

“Alright, everyone - we have a new masseur coming in for work today, and I want you all to be nice,” Varric said, staring down him employees. 

 

“Varric, please - I am always nice,” Zevran said, grinning salaciously. 

 

Isabela leaned on the elf’s shoulder, “So am I, love - but it’s not like he could just single out Cassandra. That wouldn’t be fair.”

 

“True enough, Bela - true enough,” the man replied, winking at the woman in question.

 

Cassandra rolled her eyes - equally unimpressed with her boss’s warning and coworkers’ teasing. 

 

“Oh, what’s he like?” Merrill asked, clasping her hands in front of her chest, “Is he nice? Well he must be - you wouldn’t ask us to be nice if he wasn’t. Would you?”

 

“I think he’s a bit of a tit,” Sera chimed in.

 

“You think that about everyone,” Cassandra countered. 

 

“Well I hope he’s at least good looking,” Anders said, nursing a cup of tea, “I can only watch Isabela and Zevran for so long before getting bored - no offense.”

 

“None taken - tell me, do you happen to like almond tea?” Zevran asked sweetly. 

 

Anders’s eyes flashed briefly before the mage rolled his eyes, “He’s not actually going to poison me - you  _ know _ this.”

 

“Uh-oh, sweet thing - I don’t think Justice approves,” Isabela laughed. 

 

The elf rolled his eyes, “It was a joke - why couldn’t you have bonded to a spirit of joy?”

 

“Instead of a spirit of killjoy,” Sera snarked, prompting groans from everyone except Zevran (who high fived her). 

 

Varric sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I honestly don’t know why I bother…”

 

“Neither do I,” Cassandra said, “No one that would be bothered by this riff raff would get hired by you.”

 

“Oh, fairest Cassandra, you know there is always a special place in my heart for you,” Zevran said, placing a hand on his heart. 

 

“More like a place for my bosom,” the woman replied, rolling her eyes. (Those who knew her well, however, could see the barest hint of a fond smile in her expression.)

 

It was then that the front door opened with a strange amount of confidence for a relatively new face.

 

“Sparkler!” Varric said, opening his arms in geeting, “Welcome to your first day of work - I thought it would good if we all got introduced.”

 

Dorian smiled, hiding his discomfort at all the open staring. Things had certainly changed if being the center of attention bothered him, but he soldiered on, “How very considerate - and since you’ve elected not to use my Maker given name, I’ll start - Dorian Pavus, formerly of Tevinter.”

 

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” the woman stepped forward to shake hands, “Don’t. Ask.”

 

Dorian held up his free hand in acquiescence - after all, he certainly understood difficult family relations. 

 

“And I,” a devilishly handsome blond elf slid forward, “Am Zevran Arainai, at your service.”

 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise and started walking away, “I’m going to set up my room for today.”

 

“Don’t leave angry!” Isabela called, “It’s not Zevran’s fault he’s pretty!”

 

“Do you mean Zevran or Dorian?” Anders asked, grinning mischieviously. 

 

“Both - preferably together,” the woman replied.

 

(Down the hall, Cassandra made another disgusted noise.)

 

“I’m flattered, but no thank you,” Dorian said, offering Isabela his hand, “And you are?”

 

“Isabela Freewoman,” she winked, “I heard you moved between the Hawkes and Fenris - a position I’d love to be in, personally.”

 

The mage snorted, “I don’t know about this Fenris fellow, but Garrett’s certainly easy on the eyes.”

 

Varic laughed, “Of course you’ve already met the Hawkes - I shouldn’t even be surprised by this point.”

 

“Oh, so you live with Felix?” Anders asked, then belatedly held out his hand, “I volunteer at the Darktown Clinic - Anders.”

 

“Felix mentioned you, actually - and your spirit companion,” Dorian replied, “But yes, we came from Tevinter together.”

 

“Oh? A paramour?” Zevran asked. 

 

Dorian held up his hands, “No, fortunately for the rest of Thedas, Felix and I are just friends and I am  _ tragically _ single.”

 

“I can’t fix your relationship status, but I am always free for some fun company,” the elf winked with a grin. 

 

“I’m Merrill!” the other elf in the room burst forward suddenly, thrusting her hand forward and bouncing with excitement, “Sorry, Zevran, that was rude - but I didn’t want to wait any longer. Are you a mage? Anders and I are - well, you knew about Anders and Justice, I guess, but-”

 

“Let the man get a word in edgewise, Daisy,” Varric chuckled. 

 

“Nice to meet you - and yes, I am a mage,” Dorian said, a little taken aback, “A necromancer with a secondary speciality in fire magic.”

 

“A necromancer?” Anders asked, arching a brow, “And you’re friends with a spirit healer?”

 

“We never understood the rivalry, really,” the Tevinter man replied. 

 

“Wait - yer tellin’ me that a bastard that likes raisin’ the dead is also a masseur?” Sera asked, then shivered, “I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing you’re a receptionist and not a customer,” Varric said, then held a hand out to gesture to the elf, “You’ve met our clerk, Sera Redjenny.”

 

“Briefly,” Dorian said, inclining his head, “And it’s not like I make money raising the dead - or massaging them.”

 

Sera’s face contorted in revulsion while Zevran, Isabela, and Anders laughed. Even Varric chuckled. 

 

Merrill put a finger to her chin and tilted her head, “But would it help them, do you think? Not skeletons, I mean you can’t massage bones, but if you summoned a restless spirit, d’you think it would help them move on?”

 

Everyone looked at the elven mage with varying levels of concern. 

 

Dorian cleared his throat, “I… had never considered that.”

 

“Alright, we’ve all met, time to get to work,” Varric said before Merrill could continue, clapping his hands, “Rooster, Rivaini, you’ve got clients coming in the next hour - Daisy, you’ll be taking some of Blondie’s clients today.”

 

“What?” Anders started, “But-”

 

“A little birdie told me you were in the clinic last night,” Varric said, with a stern look, “And I’m guessing that tea is what you’re considering breakfast. We aren’t short staffed anymore, so I want you to go get some real food, take a nap, and be back for your evening clients.”

 

_ This is an injustice! _ Justice declared. 

 

Dorian started - he knew about the mages that would work with spirits before, but it was the first time he’d met one in person. The flashing eyes threw him off. 

 

“Yes, well, Varric doesn’t really care about fair play,” Anders said, rubbing his temple with a sigh. 

 

“Damn right,” the dwarf grinned, crossing his arms. 

 

The blond mage rolled his eyes and waved, “Fine, I’m off - good luck, Dorian. Nice meeting you.”

 

Dorian waved back, watching as his coworkers scattered to get to work. 

 

Varric waved and headed back, “Let me show you your room, Sparkler. Now, I think you’ll be a good fit here, and I’m a  _ very _ good judge of character-”

 

Behind them, Sera blew a raspberry.

 

“-but on the off chance that I’m wrong, we asked our regulars to be your first clients here,” the dwarf continued, “So don’t worry - if you mess up, you won’t be losing me any clients.”

 

Dorian snorted, “Thank you for your consideration.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Varric flashed a grin, opening the door to a standard massage room and waving a hand inside, “If you need anything, let me or Sera know. She may seem abrasive, and she is, but she’s good people.”

 

Dorian explored the room, not seeing anything out of place, “I’ve heard worse.” 

 

Varric leaned in the doorframe, “Not regretting taking the job?”

 

The mage chuckled and turned back, “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, can they? Besides, I…”

 

The dwarf arched a brow. 

 

Dorian cleared his throat, “Despite my… bravado, I know this is a risk for you, so… thank you, really.”

 

Varric laughed, “Don’t worry, Sparkler - we’re all pretty allergic to expressing our feelings around here. I appreciate the thought, of course, but I didn’t hire you to be charitable - you’ve got the right qualifications, and like I said, I’m an excellent judge of character.”

 

“Does that come with being a writer?” the mage asked.

 

His new boss snorted, “Been checking up on me? I’m flattered.”

 

“Felix mentioned it - someone at the clinic mentioned it,” Dorian replied, rearranging things the way he liked. 

 

Varric sighed, “Of course they did - look, it’s a hobby that got a little out of hand.”

 

“I should say so, with readers across all of Thedas,” the mage laughed, “I had a friend in Tevinter who read your work, though I didn’t know you were the author at the time. Should I be worried about making an appearance?”

 

“Maybe if you make it past the month,” the dwarf joked, “I’m headed back to my office - again, if you need anything…”

 

“I know who to talk to,” Dorian assured. 

 

Varric held up his hands as he walked away.

 

Turning and leaning his back on the wall, the mage surveyed his new space - at least for now. His coworkers definitely seemed like a colorful bunch - he wondered if their clientele would be the same. 

 

* * *

 

“Alistair Theirin,” the first one introduced himself, “Yes,  _ that _ Alistair Theirin, how do you do?”

 

“I’m sorry, you have me at a loss,” Dorian replied, shaking his hand. 

 

“Really?” the man asked, “That’s refreshing. New to town, then?”

 

“That obvious?” the mage replied. 

 

“It is if you don’t know about me and my family,” Alistair sighed, “Short version - my dad is Maric Theirin, king of Fereldan, and my mother is First Enchantress Fiona of Montsimmard Circle - and not his wife.”

 

“Scandalous,” Dorian grinned, “So why are you in Kirkwall and not Fereldan or Orlais?”

 

“As much as I just  _ love _ being called a bastard and a homewrecker and a knife-ear while walking down the street,” the other man said, “I thought it might be a good change of pace to get out of my parents’ shadows and be my own man.”

 

“And how is that working out for you?” Dorian asked, feeling a vague sense of deja vu.

 

Alistair held out his arms, “Well, I dropped out of Templar school and currently work as a city guardsman, so… living the dream.”

 

The mage chuckled, looking down at the notes his coworker had passed him, “So you normally see Zevran…”

 

“His notes are about me having a mole on my butt or something, aren’t they?” his client asked, “Listen, I see Zevran because we’ve been friends for a while, but he can be an ass, so when Varric sent out the email asking for volunteers to meet the new masseur…”

 

Dorian set the notes aside, deciding it best not to reveal what the notes actually said about the other man’s butt (that it was cute “for a GWA guy”, whatever  _ that _ meant), “So I see. Well then, shall we get started?”

 

* * *

 

“Howdy, neighbor,” Marian Hawke said, flashing the masseur a grin. 

 

“I don’t think we formally met - Dorian,” the mage said. 

 

His client shook, “Marian. I usually see Merrill or Isabela, but I thought I’d take pity on the new guy.”

 

“Yes, their notes were rather…”

 

“Explicit?” Marian grinned, “You should see the stuff we do in private.”

 

Dorian held up a hand, “No, thank you.”

 

“Polite or just uninterested?” 

 

“Uninterested - in all the ‘fairer’ sex,” the mage said. 

 

“Bela will be devastated,” Marian laughed, “She was going on and on about how cute you were in her texts. Oh well - I take it you don’t want to watch me strip then?”

 

“No,” Dorian said, smiling as he went to the door.

 

The woman shrugged, “Your loss.”

 

* * *

 

“Lace Harding,” the dwarven woman said, holding out a hand, “If you ever want a tour around Mt. Sundermount, I work as a guide there. New in town?”

 

“What gave it away?” Dorian asked, shaking with an arched brow. 

 

Lace laughed, “Just a guess - I live in Hightown with my girlfriend, and I’d seen your face around recently.”

 

“Oh? Well, I can’t blame you - once you witness perfection, it’s hard to forget,” the mage winked. 

 

His client blushed, holding up her hands, “Oh, n-no, I’m just good with faces, is all.” 

 

“I see you usually see Cassandra…” Dorian said, glancing at the chart again - he had to say, he was glad to finally see some  _ normal _ notes on a client. 

 

“Yeah, she used to be an athletic therapist, so she really knows how to help someone active like me,”  Lace said, “But I don’t mind trying something new, either.”

 

The mage bowed slightly, “Well, I shall endeavour to do my best to be as helpful to you as Cassandra has been.”

 

The dwarven woman blushed again, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

 

“I’ll just step out so you get ready then,” Dorian said, wondering if he should be worried about an unreasonably jealous girlfriend in his future. 

 

* * *

 

“Krem Aclassi,” the man said, “I was pretty surprised to see another ‘Vint made it into Kirkwall - wasn’t expecting an Altus.”

 

Dorian wasn’t surprised that another Tevinter citizen knew he was an Altus - where they were from, being able to tell who was who was second nature. The mage shook, “As am I - if you don’t mind my asking, what brought you to Kirkwall?”

 

“Well, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough - I’m trans,” Krem replied, “And my family didn’t take it too well.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dorian said, a pang of solidarity blooming in his chest, “I… had a similar experience.”

 

“It’s never good things that bring people people to Kirkwall,” the other man said, and dug out a business card, “You’ll find that out soon enough. My boss runs a home security firm - don’t know where you’re staying, but if you need something set up…”

 

“Thank you - really,” the mage looked over the card briefly -  _ Bull’s Chargers?  _ \- and set it aside, “But let’s get back to you - you usually see Anders?” 

 

Krem nodded, “This might be a weird request, but - I’m more comfortable with someone talking while I’m getting a massage. Otherwise I get antsy not knowing where they are.”

 

Dorian nodded - that had been in Anders’s notes, which were… at the very least,  _ less _ childish than some of the others, “Well I’ll do my best to accommodate…”

 

The other man shifted his weight, seemingly wanting to say more. 

 

“Is there something else?”

 

Krem scratched at his neck, “Well, being in Kirkwall, I don’t… uh, get to hear much Tevene. Do you think-”

 

_ <<Your wish is my command,>> _ Dorian said, winking. Honestly, it was such an adorable request for something so simple - how could he refuse?

 

* * *

 

“So how was your first day?” Felix asked, almost as soon as Dorian was through the door. 

 

“Exhausting,” the other mage replied, “I don’t think I had a single  _ normal _ client all day - and the  _ notes _ my colleagues write about their clients…”

 

“What about them?” Felix laughed. He was sitting at the table he’d had delivered yesterday, eating before heading off the to the clinic. 

 

Dorian stretched and settled across from his friend, “Unprofessional is the  _ least _ of it - tell me, do you know what ‘GWA’ stands for?”

 

“Grey Warden Academy?” his friend asked. 

 

The masseur snapped his fingers, “Of course, why didn’t I realize it?”

 

“Because you were too busy drooling over their uniforms to read the crest?” 

 

Dorian laughed, “They  _ are _ nice uniforms.”

 

“So - tell me more,” Felix said, “And there’s a plate for you in the fridge.”

 

“You are a saint,” his friend said, rising to retrieve his own meal, “Fortunately for you, _ I  _ am not. A royal bastard with an odd sense of humor, one of our neighbors - Marian, Garrett’s twin - who offered to strip for me, a dwarven women who fell in love with me immediately - and who can blame the poor girl? - and one of our countrymen.”

 

“Really?” Felix asked, “Sounds like a full day indeed. And what about your coworkers?”

 

“Oh, them,” Dorian sat down again, “An equally interesting bunch - including that Anders fellow you mentioned, though Varric sent him home almost immediately.”

 

His friend frowned, “I should hope so - he was at the clinic last night.”

 

“So I heard,” the masseur replied, “Then there was Zevran, the Antivan elf - you can hear the accent - who flirted with me outrageously.”

 

“It must be so hard, being found so attractive all the time,” Felix laughed. 

 

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Dorian agreed, “There was a woman named Cassandra who might be able to give that orderly of yours a run for the most taciturn and disapproving.”

 

“Shayle is… an interesting character,” the spirit healer agreed.

 

“Another elf - Merrill - who was… excitable and odd, and I think she and Isabela - who  _ also _ flirted with me outrageously - might both be dating Marian Hawke,” the masseur turned to his meal, speaking between bites of food, “Together, nothing scandalous, mind you.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

“And that’s it,” Dorian said, “Hopefully I’ve proven myself well enough to bring in my own clients - oh, and my Tevinter client gave me this.”

 

Felix took the business card and looked it over, “Cremisius Aclassi, Executive Officer at Bull’s Charger’s Home Security. Well, we could probably stand to have someone look at the place…”

 

“I’m fairly confident in my ability to defend this hovel on my own, but do as you will,” the masseur waved dismissively. 

 

His friend rose to put the card on the fridge using a mouse-shaped magnet, “A consultation couldn’t hurt - I’ll let you know when I schedule it.”

 

Dorian made a hum of acknowledgement, then sighed, “I was also invited to a welcoming party by my boss on Saturday - as were you.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” Felix laughed, “Making friends already.” 

 

“It’s in a tavern called the Hanged Man, Felix - that  _ has _ to be some kind of omen,” his friend countered.

 

“Maybe it’s an omen that you’ll meet a  _ hung _ man.”

 

“Ha ha.”

 

“We don’t have to go,” Felix said, sitting across from his friend in concern, “But it’s not like you to avoid parties.”

 

Dorian forced a smile, “You’re right, of course - how can I deny my adoring public?”

 

“Dorian.”

 

The masseur sighed, collapsing in on himself, “I don’t know - it’s just… it feels like a trap, somehow.”

 

Felix put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “We aren’t in Tevinter - at least give it a try?”

 

“Very well,” Dorian sighed, then seemed to reclaim some of his confidence, “But if I don’t find a  _ hung _ man, I shall be very put out.”

 

“Then you’ll just have to settle for one of your outrageously flirtatious coworkers,” the other mage said, giving his friend’s shoulder a brief squeeze before getting up, “I’m heading off - call if you need anything.”

 

“A job with normal coworkers?” 

 

Felix laughed, gathering up his coat and messenger bag, “Sorry, that’s the Maker’s domain, not mine.”

 

Dorian waved as the other mage left, and settled in for the night. 


	4. Two Hawkes, One Tethras, and Shania Twain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be half Varric/Garrett and half Fenris... and then Marian showed up. With Shania Twain's "Don't Impress Me Much".

Varric whistled on his way home, to his apartment above the Hanged Man. He  _ could _ afford to live in Hightown, but he’d always felt more comfortable in a dirty bar than a chic cafe. He walked up a set of stairs on the side of the building - it used to be on the inside, but one too many confused drunks had convinced him to revise that. 

 

When the writer, businessman, and  _ dashing _ rogue opened the door, he found a Hawke sprawled on one of the couches in his front room. 

 

“Long day?” the dwarf asked, chuckling. 

 

Garrett groaned, “The blood magic issue came up again.”

 

“Let me get you a drink - unless you already helped yourself?” Varric asked. 

 

“I waited to see my favorite dwarf,” the big man replied, forcing himself to sit up. He felt a hundred years old - there was an upcoming vote for a bill that would reform the current city laws to allow for consensual and personal blood magic usage within city limits. 

 

First Enchanter Orsino wasn’t  _ really _ for it, but the elf  _ was _ for mages being able to at least have  _ access _ to the information. It would help them defend themselves, should they come across a corrupt blood mage. Meredith, of course, was  _ vehemently _ against it - it was a “slippery slope” to corruption and perversion. What was next, letting  _ demons _ walk the mortal plane?

 

“Does Bodahn know I’m your favorite?” Varric asked, “Take a seat - I’ll send an order down.”

 

Garrett moved to the table, resting his arms and head on it, “Thanks. I might have forgotten to eat earlier. And yes, Bodahn knows.”

 

Bodahn Freddic was Hawke’s assistant - like Meredith had Cullen and Orsino had Morrigan. The three of them were always overworked, but Cullen was the only one who looked it - working for a hardass like Meredith, it wasn’t much of a surprise. No one was sure why Morrigan held her position - she clearly detested the council, and often called it corrupt and ineffective. She was the one who’d walked in and demanded the position, however - and she was  _ good _ at it, so Orsino let it pass. 

 

Varric poured them both a glass of Antivan brandy, leaving the bottle in the middle of the table. He held one out to Hawke, tapping the man’s massive forearm to get him to accept.

 

“I want to get it passed, but I don’t want to seem like I have a vested interest,” Garrett said, picking his head up and gulping down the drink. 

 

“You’re a mage, Waffles,” the dwarf replied, pulling out pen and paper to write down an order, “You’ll always have a vested interest.”

 

The big man smiled at the nickname, resting his head on his arms again - but this time keeping his companion in view, “I suppose. Heard you hired one of my neighbors.”

 

“Sparkler, yeah - he’s been doing well. Getting good reviews from our regulars, dealing with the motley crew…” Varric finished his note and put it in a dumbwaiter, sending it down, “Maybe you should come down and give him a shot.” 

 

“I don’t have time,” Garrett insisted, shaking his head, “I should be at home, going over reports, or-”

 

“Stopping Chuckles and Junior from killing each other?” the dwarf asked, pouring his friend another drink. 

 

“Or that,” Hawke agreed, accepting.

 

“Sunshine can handle family business,” Varric said, waving a hand, “And the reports will keep - seriously, I can’t think of anyone who could use a massage more than you. Well, anyone I  _ like _ .” 

 

Garrett laughed, “Well, maybe. I could just ask you - you’re licensed, aren’t you?”

 

The dwarf cleared his throat, “Of course - I mean, I might need to check if it expired or not but…”

 

“You know I don’t care about,” the big man said, but held up his hands, “But if you don’t want to I’m not gonna make you - it was just a suggestion.”

 

Varric opened his mouth, then seemed to hesitate before he shrugged and grabbed a stool on his way over, “Don’t tell anyone about this - they might start to get  _ ideas _ .” 

 

Garrett leaned back in his chair, shaking his head, “Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt your reputation…”

 

“Exactly,” the dwarf said - he’d brought the stool because honestly, even sitting down the man was too large for Varric to reach his back. He let his hands go to work before he could think himself out of this - he was just helping a friend, that was all. 

 

Hawke groaned, closing his eyes at the skillful fingers digging into the knots in his shoulders, palms working their way down his back and upper arms. He hadn’t really expected his friend to take him up on his request - Varric hadn’t been a  _ practicing _ masseur for years. Not since he’d been able to afford to hire other people and run several businesses besides. Garrett was far from complaining though - the dwarf had been right about his need to relax. 

 

“Andraste’s  _ tits _ , Hawke - you’re as hard as stone,” Varric said. He’d known the big man was stressed and overworked, but it still surprised him how tight the muscles beneath his palms were, “You should let Cassandra at you - she’s got more weight behind her arms.”

 

The human winced, “Sorry, no - I’m sure she’s nothing but -  _ ah  _ \- professional, but she’s got that-  _ oh _ …”

 

“Crush on you?” the dwarf asked, ignoring the fluttering things in his chest, “Guess Rivaini or Daisy would be too weird, huh?”

 

Garrett nodded with a hum, “And Anders.”

 

“Why Blondie? You two are still friends at least,” Varric said - the break up hadn’t been exactly amicable, but the men had managed to move past it. At least, it seemed that way to him - and he was very observant, if he said so himself. And he did.

 

“Which is why it would be weird to have his hands all over me again,” the big man replied, “And as much as Anders tries, he’s… clingy.”

 

“Fair enough,” the dwarf pushed his friend forward, accessing more of his lower back, “Zevran can do hot stone treatments.”

 

Garrett went back to leaning on the table obediently, “No - I dread what he’d tell Isabella.”

 

Varric grimaced - as much as he wanted to believe his employees  _ never _ divulged the personal information of their clients, he wasn’t an idiot. Besides, there was no reason to bullshit Hawke - well, not  _ this _ Hawke, anyway. 

 

“Still leaves Sparkler,” the dwarf went on. 

 

“Maybe,” Garrett said, voice rough with exhaustion as he looked over his shoulder with a sweet smile, “Is he as good as you are?”

 

_ Damn the man _ , Varric thought, flashing a grin that was all bravado, “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

 

Hawke chuckled, eyes shutting again. He liked visiting Varric - not only did it give him some peace from his siblings, it made him feel like he wasn’t the only adult in the room. Or the only  _ sane _ person. Or both. Everyone always seemed to want something from him - except Varric, who told him stories, fed him, and “liberally applied alcohol to disinfect his bleeding heart”. 

 

Varric was convinced that Garrett had no idea what he did to him - the man was as big as a bear and sweet as a rabbit, and whenever he saw that gentle smile - that  _ genuine _ smile - it made the dwarf’s stomach flip. If he had known how hard this was going to be - well, he probably still would have taken the Hawkes under his wing, to be honest, but he would have spent more time with Marian instead of Garrett. 

 

_ Too late now _ , he thought, a bell chiming to let him know the dumbwaiter had returned from the kitchen downstairs. He got down, patting his friend’s back before going to retrieve the food while it was still hot. He almost wished he was still practicing - mushy feelings aside, Hawke really  _ could _ use regular massages to help with the stress of being a council member. 

 

Garrett pushed himself up, propping his head up with a hand. He watched his companion’s back as the dwarf went about collecting the food and putting it on a tray. If he thought he had a chance, he might have asked the other man out - but any flirting or teasing he’d done over the years had always been gently rebuffed or redirected. It was one of the times he wished he was a bit more like Marian - then again, Varric had turned her down, too. Multiple times.

 

“It’s not much, but you won’t be giving half of it to Dog here,” the dwarf said, bringing over several plates of food. Four were placed in front of Garrett - the other two were for his host. 

 

Hawke huffed a laugh, digging into the simple Fereldan fare, “Thanks - really. Not sure I’ll finish all of this…”

 

“You say that every time, Waffles,” Varric laughed, “And I’ve yet to it happen.”

 

Garrett shrugged one shoulder, too busy eating to continue the banter. 

 

His host just shook his head and turned to his own meal, letting the silence lie comfortably. 

 

Then there was a knock on the apartment’s front door - just before Marian Hawke let herself in with a grin, “I knew I’d find you here.”

 

“Well I do live here, Chuckles,” Varric said, shaking his head for different reasons. 

 

“Does Garrett?” Marian asked, waltzing over and draping herself across her brother’s back, poking his cheek, “Cause he’s over here so often I’m not sure anymore. What would the neighbors say?”

 

“What is it, Marian?” Garrett asked, swatting away her hand with a smile. 

 

“Bodahn is looking for you,” the woman said, pushing herself up, “Some council emergency, I imagine. I didn’t get the details.”

 

Her brother groaned, setting what little remained of his food aside, “I better find out where the fire is. Until next time, Varric.”

 

“Don’t forget to take an extinguisher,” the dwarf said, waving as the big man left. 

 

Marian remained, putting her hands on her hips, “Aw, aren’t you two cute.”

 

“Please, Chuckles - you’ll make Bianca jealous,” Varric said. 

 

The woman frowned - over a particularly drunken night, she’d learned a bit more about the real Bianca than she would have liked. She knew outright voicing her disapproval would get her nowhere, but it still hurt her to know her friend was carrying a candle for someone who would never be with him. 

 

Instead, she used a language they both understood, “That old crossbow doesn’t look like a very good cuddler to me.”

 

“That’s what Avvar fur blankets are for,” the dwarf replied, getting up to gather up the plates the other Hawke had left. 

 

Marian rolled her eyes, then paused, whole face lighting up. 

 

Varric noticed and sighed, knowing he’d already lost, “Please don’t.”

 

“ _ I’ve had a few daggers that were pretty cool~ _ ” the woman sang, laying a hand on her chest, “ _ But you seem to think you’ve got the right tool~ _ ”

 

“Life isn’t a musical, Chuckles,” the dwarf replied, headed towards the kitchen. 

 

“ _ You think it’s a lover - it drives me up the wall~ _ ” Marian continued, undeterred, spinning around in front of the man, “ _ You’re in regular, unoriginal denial~ _ ”

 

Varric rolled his eyes, walking around her to put the plates in the dumbwaiter, “I like Shania Twain as much as the next guy-”

 

“ _ Oh-oo-oo you think it’s special~ _ ” the woman leaned dramatically into the doorframe, pointing at her friend, “ _ Oh-oo-oo you think it’s it’s something else! _ ”

 

The dwarf turned around, crossing his arms with a tired smile, “You’re not even on key.”

 

“Ok, so it’s one of a kind,” Marian grinned, stepping back into the front room to dance along, “ _ That don’t impress me much! So it’s got the love but does it, have the touch~ _ ”

 

Varric arched a brow, “I’m putting this in my book.”

 

Hawke put both hands on the back of a chair, looking over it with an impish expression, “ _ Now don’t get me wrong I think it’s alright,/ But that won’t keep you warm in the middle of the night~ _ ”

 

“Avvar fur blankets, Chuckles,” the dwarf reminded her, walking through the room to collect his laptop and bring it to the table. 

 

“ _ That don’t impress me much~” _ Marian continued to sing, “ _ I only know one guy who carries a candle for a weapon~ _ ”

 

“I’m just going to get some actual work done.”

 

Hawke laid across the table in front of his chair, a hand to her temple, “ _ And a name up his sleeve just in case~ _ ”

 

“Hawke,” Varric warned. 

 

The woman poked his nose, “ _ All that extra sarcasm keeps ‘em guessin’,/Cause Maker forbid you should feel for a face~ _ ”

 

“Are you done?” the dwarf asked, setting the computer down as his friend launched herself up from the table. 

 

Marian whirled and pointed at him again, “ _ Oh-oo-oo you think it’s special,/ Oh-oo-oo you think it’s something else~ _ ”

 

“As much as I love personal concerts-” Varric opened his laptop and started it up.

 

“Ok, so she was your first love,” the woman threw up her hands. 

 

“ _ Hawke _ ,” the dwarf said, turning with a frown. 

 

Marian poked him in the chest, giving him a hard stare of her own, “That  _ don’t _ impress me much,” she moved her hand up and flicked her friend’s nose, singing softer now, “ _ So she’s got your heart but does she have the touch,/ Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure she’s alright,/ But she won’t keep you warm in the middle of the night~ _ ”

 

Varric sighed and shook his head, resolutely turning to his computer screen and bringing up his books to check over. He knew Marian had his best interests at heart - it didn’t make her less of an occasional asshole. 

 

“ _ He’s one of those guys who tends to think too much~ _ ” the woman went on, ignoring the tension as she went back to her usual booming volume and exaggerating dancing, “ _ Not to mention the way he’s oblivious~ _ ”

 

The dwarf found his anger draining despite his best intentions - honestly, one of his closest friends singing off key with no music and dancing around was just a bit too silly to let him hold onto hurt right now.

 

Hawke knew it, too - she sat on the table, leaning back on her arms, “ _ But you can’t tell me you haven’t seen the looks he’s givin’,/ C’mon, man, see it - he’s totally smitten.” _

 

Varric shook his head, focusing on numbers and profit margins. 

 

“ _Oh-oo-oo he thinks you’re something special,_ ” Marian laid back, “ _Oh-oo-oo_ _he thinks you’re something else~_ ”

 

“What, a carpenter?” the dwarf muttered under his breath.

 

The woman grinned at him, twisting around, “Ok, so he’s totally in love with you.”

 

Varric cleared his throat suddenly - no, that was - no.

 

“ _ That should impress you much~ _ ” Marian went on, turning to lay on the table on her stomach, facing her host, “ _ Yeah he may not have the moves but I bet he’s got the touch~ _ ”

 

“We are talking about your brother, right?” the dwarf asked, grimacing at even thinking about Bartrand  _ having _ a sex life. 

 

His friend rolled her eyes, “ _ Now don’t get me wrong, yeah I think you’re alright~ _ ”

 

“Now who’s deflecting?”

 

“ _ But he’d love to keep you warm in the middle of the night~ _ ” Marian suddenly stood on the table, “ _ That should impress you much~ _ ”

 

Varric crossed his arms, leaning back to meet her eyes, “Oh should it?”

 

Hawke winked, “ _ You think you’re fine, but don’t you want the touch? _ ”

 

The dwarf rolled his eyes. 

 

“ _ Now don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re alright~ _ ” Marian said, wagging her finger before hugging herself, “ _ But that won’t keep you warm on the long, cold, lonely night. _ ”

 

“Oh, good, the song’s almost over,” Varric said. 

 

“ _ That don’t impress me much~ _ ” the woman hopped off the table, “And you, serrah dwarf, are a spoilsport.”

 

Her friend clapped sardonically, “You’re a hidden gem, I can’t believe they kicked you out of that karaoke bar last week. Happy?”

 

“Are you?” Marian asked.

 

Varric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Can we just… not? You already went and did the song and dance - literally.”

 

The woman held up her hands, “Fine, fine - you know, some people have to pay to see me perform.”

 

“And some people pay to have you stop,” the dwarf replied, “Now if you don’t mind, I  _ do _ have grown up things to do.”

 

“Ew, adulting,” Marian said, dry gagging, “See you Varric - but… think about it, ok?”

 

“Think about you telling me to sleep with your brother?” her friend replied, “How could I forget?”

 

The woman snorted, waving as she left the apartment. 

 

Alone with his thoughts, Varric sighed heavily. Then he shook his head and concentrated on his work. 


	5. Wicked Grace Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is surprisingly difficult to keep everyone's jobs straight.

Fenris huffed at the knock at his front door, “It’s open!”

 

“We talked about that!” Aveline’s voice carried through. 

 

The elf heard Donnic say something in return, but didn’t catch what it was. Fenris rolled his eyes, walking out of his room and leaning over the balcony, “It is Wicked Grace night - it is only open because I was expecting you.”

 

“See?” Donnic said, waving upwards. 

 

His wife sighed, shaking her head, “You should still lock it.”

 

“Alistair texted that he’ll be late,” Donnic went on, “There was an… issue in the alienage.” 

 

“An issue for him or an issue for others?” Fenris asked - the blond city guard in their group was always a bit of a puzzle to the elf. His half-elf lineage caused him no end of trouble, and yet he did not  _ look _ like an elf at all. 

 

“With him?” Aveline asked, rolling her eyes, “Both, probably.”

 

Another knock sounded at the door, followed by Carver letting himself in, “You should really lock this - just because it’s Hightown doesn’t mean there aren’t thieves.”

 

“And you should be able to arrive earliest, since you live two houses over,” Fenris replied, running back into his room to pull an overly large sweater over his shirt before heading downstairs, “I called for pizza earlier - there’s beer in the fridge.”

 

“We brought more,” Donnic added, holding a case out from the kitchen door. 

 

“And Josephine will probably bring wine,” Carver added, “Marian went out looking for Garrett - some council emergency.”

 

“Then she will be back in an hour,” Fenris said, considering how much time it took to get to Varric’s and back. 

 

Josephine let herself through the door, a bottle of wine in one hand, “You should really lock your door, Fenris.”

 

The elf sighed and rolled his eyes, “So I’ve been told.”

 

Donnic, Aveline, and Carver were seated around the dining room table, all with beers. The young Hawke offered their host one as he joined them, which Fenris accepted. 

 

“How are your studies, Carver?” Aveline asked. 

 

“The same as they were last week,” Carver replied, rolling his eyes, “Smith’s assignments keep getting crazier and crazier, and de Fer doesn’t seem to know the meaning of ‘elective’ - I think I’m starting to know more about the history of mages than Anders.”

 

“I doubt that,” Fenris said, taking a drink. 

 

The door opened again, and soon Blackwall appeared in the dining room, “You should really-”

 

“Lock the door, yes, I’ve heard,” the elf said.

 

“I was going to say get that hole in the floor fixed, but that too,” the man replied, going to the kitchen to help himself to a beer before joining the others at the table. 

 

“And fix up the outside,” Josephine said, folding her hands in front of her, “At least mow the lawn - you’re making property values deteriorate in the area.” 

 

“I do not care,” Fenris said, “Besides, that hardly seems to have stopped the altuses next door.”

 

“It was probably all they could afford,” Carver said, “From what I’ve heard, Felix’s father bought him the clinic and they’re living off his savings for now.”

 

The elf snorted, deigning not to answer. His friends didn’t know much about Tevinter, after all - poor altuses were not a thing that existed, if only to save face. 

 

“Where did you hear that from?” Donnic asked. 

 

“Bethany,” the young Hawke shrugged, “I only met them the one time.”

 

“Wait,” Fenris said, suddenly realizing something, “If there was a council emergency-”

 

“Adaar told me there was no need,” Josephine said, “Well, what she told me was that there was no reason that it should ruin  _ both _ our evenings - then banned me from the keep.”

 

“I don’t think Bodahn would even let Garrett finish telling him to go home,” Aveline said. 

 

“Poor Cullen,” the Antivan woman went on, “I’m sure he’ll be up half the night now, at least.” 

 

There was a knock at the door, and Fenris left his guests to answer when it wasn’t followed by an entrance. After paying for the pizza, he brought it back to the table, leading to several minutes of paper plate gathering and eating. 

 

In the meantime, Alistair burst through the door and stumbled his way into the dining room, “Sorry I’m late, I-”

 

“What happened?” Aveline cut in, getting up and helping the man to a seat. 

 

“Oh, you know,” the blond said, wincing as something was jostled, “Just some lovely gentlemen protesting elf rights. Their rights to live, mostly.”

 

“So you swooped in to save the day?” Fenris drawled, shaking his head. He tried to remember a time he’d seen the other man without  _ some _ kind of injury - he failed. 

 

“Well, you know, I’m starting to think that swooping is bad,” Alistair said, gingerly touching around his swollen eye, “Oh, that’s going to smart.”

 

“Do you have a first aid kit, Fenris?” Aveline asked. 

 

“I will get it,” the elf replied, standing and padding to the linen closet upstairs. Most people, he reflected, would probably have gone home after taking a beating. He shook his head, jogging back downstairs and handing the kit to Aveline.

 

“I’m not going to get a call from the Captain wondering where you are, am I?” the woman asked, setting to work. 

 

“Duncan already got my debrief, it’s fine,” Alistair replied, “Though… maybe don’t tell him I didn’t stop by a clinic on my way over?”

 

Donnic laughed, while Blackwall crossed his arms disapprovingly. 

 

“Did you tell him you were going to?” Carver asked. 

 

The blond scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, “Well, not, not exactly… I might have just… implied it?”

 

Josephine sighed, putting a hand over her eyes, “You’re hopeless, your highness.”

 

“Ugh, please don’t,” Alistair said, “It’s not like Cailin’s going anywhere, and I haven’t even  _ been _ to Denerim.”

 

“You know, if he’s home, Felix is a healer - he didn’t seem to mind helping me out, so he might be willing to look at you,” Carver said, then cleared his throat, “If Fenris is alright with it.”

 

The elf sighed, “Well, if Alistair’s going to be an idiot…”

 

“Hey!” the blond guardsman said, then hissed in a breath as Aveline dabbed hydroxide on a cut on his cheek. 

 

Carver rose, “I’ll check if he’s in then - be right back.”

 

The young Hawke left to the group continuing to rib their injured companion. He put his hands in his pockets as he went out Fenris’s gate to go through the gate next door. When he knocked, it was Dorian that answered. 

 

“Hello again,” the necromancer said, “Something wrong? Another bloody nose?”

 

Carver felt his face heat in embarrassment, “Not… exactly. A bunch of us have Wicked Grace night at Fenris’s place, and the others are mostly guardsmen. One got in a fight and neglected to see a healer.”

 

“Well, I’m afraid Felix has left for the clinic,” Dorian said, “But if it’s nothing more serious than cuts and bruises…”

 

“It didn’t look like it,” the young Hawke said, “I’m sure he’d appreciate the help anyways.”

 

“Say no more, dear man,” the mage replied, stepping outside and closing the door, “Of course, healing really  _ isn’t _ my specialty, so I do apologize if my help is a bit lackluster.”

 

Carver waved a hand, leading the way over, “Seriously, don’t worry about it - if it saves him from Aveline’s first aid, I’m sure he’ll be more than grateful.”

 

Dorian arched a brow, but let the comment pass. 

 

“Oh, one thing though,” the young Hawke stopped in front of the door, “Fenris is… well, he’s an elf. From Tevinter.”

 

The altus held up his hands, “Ah - I understand. I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

 

Carver nodded, and opened the door, waving for his neighbor to follow, “Felix wasn't it, but his friend was, so…”

 

“Oh, hello again,” Alistair said, spotting Dorian. 

 

The altus put his hands on his hips, “Well, this certainly not how I anticipated a second meeting.”

 

“You’ve met before?” Aveline asked, moving away and replacing items in the first aid kit.

 

“Dorian’s the new masseur at Healing Hands,” Alistair explained, “I was one of his first clients.”

 

“The very first, as a matter of fact,” Dorian said, shifting the seat next his prospective patient, “Face me, please.”

 

The blond guardsman complied, “So you’re a healer, too?”

 

“It would make a certain amount of sense, but no,” the mage replied, working on the injuries, “I’m actually a necromancer.”

 

“A necromancer masseur?” Blackwall asked, frowning. 

 

“A bit odd, I know,” Dorian replied, “But it’s a living.”

 

“You’re… a Pavus, correct?” Fenris asked, ignoring the itch under his skin the magic caused. 

 

The mage swallowed at the sudden question, looking over at the elf. Then he flinched, realizing that he was  _ that _ elf - the lyrium tattoos gave him away. Dorian took a subtle, steadying breath. 

 

The others didn’t notice, but Fenris - Fenris did.  _ So he knows _ , the elf thought,  _ not that it’s difficult to tell _ . There was something the elf was remembering about a Pavus - his sister still lived in Tevinter, and they spoke on the phone at least once a week. He couldn’t  _ quite _ remember what it was though… some kind of scandal… not that  _ that _ narrowed it down…

 

Dorian gave his best smile, “Is it obvious? I  _ am _ told I strongly resemble my father, but I like to think I got my mother’s charm - and fashion sense.”

 

Aveline rolled her eyes, sitting next to her husband again.

 

“Have you made any friends yet?” Donnic asked, the most genuinely social of all of them. 

 

The mage laughed, finishing up with the healing, “I’ve only been in town for a few days - I hardly know anyone besides Felix.”

 

“What, Zevran hasn’t thrown himself at you yet?” Alistair asked, gently touching his now healed eye. He sighed with relief. 

 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dorian said with amusement, rising, “Well, if there’s no one else in need of basic healing?”

 

“No, thank you for coming out,” Josephine said diplomatically, smiling, “Sorry for bothering you with this idiot.”

 

“Hey!” Alistair said. 

 

“You should have called for backup!” Aveline said, “Someone had to be close enough to-”

 

“I  _ did _ call for backup, thank you!” the blond shot back, “But I wasn’t going to just sit around while people were getting hurt!”

 

“Give it a rest, please,” Blackwall said, “This is supposed to be a relaxing evening with friends…”

 

Fenris ignored the usual bickering as he watched the mage gentle excuse himself - that was odd, for an altus. Before he left, he seemed to recall Dorian Pavus having a reputation as a partier - he’d been a familiar face in the tabloids, that’s where the elf remembered him from. But there was still something…

 

Fenris rose from the table with startling speed as it hit him. 

 

_ “Oh, it’s so sad,” Varania said, “That a father could do that to his own son…” _

 

“Fenris?” Aveline asked. 

 

“I will be right back,” the elf said, darting into the kitchen to grab something before running out the door. 

 

“What was that?” Alistair asked, speaking for the table. 

 

“Pavus!”

 

Dorian paused, halfway in the door to his home. He watched his elven neighbor jump the fence between their houses with the grace of a cat, padding up the stairs. 

 

“Sorry, did you need-”

 

Fenris held a flyer out, “Take it.”

 

“I… I’m afraid I don’t…” the mage took the paper reluctantly, glancing at it… then pausing. 

 

“It’s a support group for trauma victims,” the elf said, leaning back against the porch’s bannister, “My sister still lives in Tevinter - she… told me about what happened.”

 

Dorian swallowed around the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling lightheaded, “Y-yes, w-well… you… you shouldn’t believe-” 

 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Fenris went on, “I went for weeks before I spoke about anything. Anders has been going for nearly a year, and Isabela started it and neither of them have talked about anything. But… it helps. To… be with people who know.”

 

The mage took a deep breath, then folded the flyer and tucked it away, giving his best smile, “Well… thank you. I can’t say whether or not I’ll go, but…”

 

The elf shrugged, straightening, “That is no business of mine - but starting over can be… difficult. Had it not been for the Hawkes, and… my other friends, I am not sure I would have accomplished it myself.”

 

Dorian nodded, then hesitated, “If you don’t mind my asking-”

 

“I have made friends with a few mages since arriving in Kirkwall,” Fenris said, crossing his arms, “If we were to know each other better, you may have trouble believing that I know not all mages are corrupt and power mad - but I  _ do _ know it, just as I can tell you are struggling with a panic attack.”

 

The mage cleared his throat, embarrassed at being so clearly transparent. It did little to help the pounding in his chest, or the way his hands were shaking. 

 

The elf held up a hand, “I do not mean to ridicule - I am… not good at this. I mean to say that I understand. I will… leave.”

 

Dorian closed his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself as the other man walked away. It wasn’t until the elf was at the front of the gate that he managed it, “It’s… Fenris, correct?”

 

“It is,” the other man said, turning back. 

 

“... thank you,” the mage said, “Really, I… appreciate the gesture.”

 

Fenris nodded, then seemed to pause himself, “If… you feel up to it, later, feel free to join us for Wicked Grace.”

 

“Your other guests-”

 

“Will be too surprised that I invited an altus back of my own volition to complain,” the elf said, smiling slyly, “Even if they did, they are  _ my _ guests, and have no right to tell me whom I may or may not have in my home.”

 

Dorian looked down, studying his boots. That was… far more kindness than he’d expected. Far more than he  _ deserved _ , “Perhaps.”

 

Fenris wasn’t sure he had ever seen an altus looks so… small. It made his uncertainty melt a little more as he turned away, waving over his shoulder, “Besides, if you annoy me, I will simply ask you to leave.”

 

The mage snorted, returning the wave unseen as he retreated into his own home. Once inside, his back hit the door and he slid down, knees coming up to his chest as he curled into himself, focusing on breathing. He pressed his forehead into his knees - closing his eyes, glad that Felix wasn’t home to worry over him. 

 

Fenris looked up to his friends scrambling away from windows and the door being swiftly shut. He rolled his eyes, walking back in to find everyone sitting at the table like they hadn’t been spying. They weren’t very good at it. 

 

The elf took a seat, “So, should we get started?”

 

“We aren’t waiting for Marian?” Alistair asked, first to recover. 

 

“She wouldn’t wait for us,” Carver said, crossing his arms. 

 

Josephine reached for the deck in the middle of the table, “He has a point.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Aveline said, snatching the deck, “ _ You _ are not dealing.”

 

“You don’t trust me?” Josephine asked, putting a hand to her heart delicately.

 

“No,” said everyone at the table. 

 

“At least, not at Wicked Grace,” Alistair added apologetically.

 

The Antivan woman grinned, not put out in the least, “We’re all learning, I see.”

 

Fenris smiled, feeling warmth in the familiarity of his friends’ bickering. He cleared his throat, “The mage may join us later.”

 

“R-really?” Donnic asked. 

 

“You invited him?” Blackwall added.

 

“I did,” the elf nodded, not elaborating. 

 

“That’s… very nice of you, Fenris,” Aveline said, “I’m sure he could use the company.”

 

“Why?” Fenris asked, wondering how much they’d overheard. 

 

The guardswoman blinked at him, “I mean… he’s new to town, with only one friend. Who wouldn’t?”

 

The elf shrugged, “I suppose you have  point.”

 

“But still…” Carver said, “He’s a ‘Vint mage.”

 

“Are we playing or not?” Fenris demanded. 

 

Aveline rolled her eyes and started shuffling. The others took his snappy reply as an end to the discussion, moving on. 

 

When Marian Hawke burst in forty or so minutes later, it was dragging Dorian under her arm, “Look who I ran into outside!”

 

“Welcome back,” Fenris said, examining his hand. 

 

“Oh, so you  _ did _ invite him,” the elder Hawke said, deflating a little as she took a seat.

 

Dorian brushed himself off, “I did say as much…”

 

“Well, allow me to introduce myself,” Aveline said, standing to reach a hand across the table, “Aveline Hendyr.”

 

“Dorian Pavus,” the mage replied, shaking, “You aren’t playing?”

 

“Apparently, I am a sore loser,” the woman replied, rolling her eyes, “So I deal and I watch.”

 

“You are a sore loser, love. Donnic Hendyr, her husband,” the man replied, hiding his cards against his chest as he also rose to shake. 

 

Aveline huffed, “Only because you lot cheat.”

 

“It’s Wicked Grace, Aveline,” Josephine said, “Cheating is  _ part _ of the game. Josephine Montilyet.” 

 

Dorian accepted her offered hand in the manner it was given, bending to place a light kiss on the woman’s knuckles, “Charmed, I’m sure.”

 

“Great, another fancy one,” Blackwall said, offering his hand to shake nonetheless, “Blackwall -  _ just _ Blackwall.”

 

“A pleasure,” the mage said, tentatively taking a seat between Marian and Carver. 

 

“Oh no,” Alistair said, grinning, “You’re in the hot zone.”

 

“The hot zone?” Dorian arched a brow. 

 

“Between Marian and Carver, he means,” Fenris said, “They do not get along.”

 

“What?” Marian demanded, a hand flying to her hand dramatically as she leaned over Dorian to pull her brother into a hug, “How could you even  _ say _ that, Fen - I’m  _ hurt _ , hurt and  _ betrayed _ .”

 

“Get off,” Carver said, “You’re making Dorian uncomfortable.”

 

The woman pulled back, sticking out her tongue, “You could at least say you like me.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“I’m telling Garrett,” Marian said, crossing her arms and pouting.

 

“He knows,” Carver said, then scowled at his hand. 

 

“You’re certainly a lively bunch,” Dorian said, resettling his chair. 

 

“Noisy, more like,” Fenris said, drawing a card.

 

“You’re the one who invites us,” Alistair said, grinning. He drew the Angel of Death, flipping it faceup on the table and showing his hand. 

 

“Some of you invite yourselves,” the elf said, smiling at his hand. 

 

“He’s talking about you,” Marian said, tossing a piece of paper at her brother over Dorian’s head. 

 

“You’ve never been invited anywhere in your life,” Carver replied, throwing down his hand, “If anything, he’s talking about  _ you _ .” 

 

“Why settle for one?” Fenris said, “The only people I invited were Aveline, Donnic, and Blackwall. Besides Pavus.”

 

“Dorian, if you don’t mind,” the mage said, holding up his hands disarmingly.

 

The elf nodded back, then noticed Josephine’s hand and scowled. 

 

“Hurt and  _ betrayal _ ,” Marian repeated, putting a hand to her temple and dramatically swooning. 

 

Carver rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hand. 

 

The Antivan woman smiled, “If we ever played for money, I would be a rich woman.”

 

“Which is why we don’t,” Blackwall said, shaking his head, “You  _ always _ win.”

 

“Not always,” Josephine said, “No one would keep playing if that were the case.”

 

“Perhaps I could even the odds?” Dorian asked, lacing his hands over the table, “I don’t profess to have Antivan levels of skill, but I  _ have _ played my fair share of Wicked Grace.”

 

Aveline shrugged, collecting the cards, “Couldn’t hurt.”

 

“Don’t be too sore if you lose,” Marian said, companionably elbowing the mage in the ribs, “Josephine’s a monster.”

 

The Antivan woman smiled warmly, “I am merely possessed of a great deal of luck.”

 

“Luck my foot,” Alistair muttered, then jumped, “Ow! Did you… did you just  _ kick _ me?”

 

“Hm?” Josephine asked, still smiling pleasantly.

 

Dorian felt himself relaxing - the atmosphere was just so… warm, completely different from what he was used to. No one seemed to be bothered by his intrusion, as he’d feared they might be - in fact, they seemed… comfortable with him, somehow.  _ Maybe _ , he thought,  _ this was a good idea after all. _

 

He’d questioned the decision - his earlier panic attack had left him feeling tired and hollow. But it had also made him want company, and with Felix at the clinic he’d had few options. The companionable bickering - bickering he didn’t seem expected to join in, though his few smart comments were met with approval - was helping to fill the emptiness. 

 

Winning the next hand didn’t hurt his mood, either. 


End file.
